


s(t)imulation

by janvandyne



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 14:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11254680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janvandyne/pseuds/janvandyne
Summary: You're filming a sex scene with Bucky Barnes and accidentally have a real orgasm. You try to play it off and it works for just about everyone else but Bucky knows. Oh, he knows.





	s(t)imulation

“Come on,” Bucky moans. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

It’s in the script, printed there in black and white, but it’s still a shock to you anyway. His voice is pitched low and rough. His blue eyes are bright and sparkling as he looks down at you. His dick is rubbing against your clit, and even through two layers of fabric, you can feel him hot and hard and thick against you. So when he tells you to come, you do it, and you hope that everyone else thinks your acting is just that good.

As you descend from your high, shame flooding your body, you mentally curse yourself for taking this job. It sounded good at the time, an independent B-movie homage to the 70’s porno chic era. It was pitched to you as intentionally cheesy in an artistic sort of way; fun, raunchy, and the perfect project to get your name out there. 

But once Bucky Barnes signed on, you should’ve known that the whole thing was a bad idea. Bucky has a large fan following in specific circles, known and loved for his bad boy behavior, risqué role choices, and reputation for fucking co-stars.

And as much as you wanted to be one of those lucky leading ladies, you were a professional, no matter the content of the movie. And even though you two have been doing this tense sort of dance around each other for the last week, there’s no way that you’re going to be just another name on his roster.

So, when the director calls cut, you practically throw Bucky off of you. Your studio-assigned assistant brings your robe and you quickly put it on with a quiet ‘thank you.’ And thank goodness that was the last scene of the day, because you can’t even look at Bucky in the eye anymore, scared that he’d see right through your ruse.

* * *

You spend the rest of the day in your hotel room. You order some room service, watch TV, take a nap, a shower. You’re lounging on the bed in the same robe that you were given today on set when there’s a knock on the door.

You consider not answering it. You put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door earlier so you can get some peace and privacy but the long-lasting quiet was too good to be true. No one has called you, so you know there’s no impromptu reason you need to be on set. And you have neither friends nor family out here in California. So, curious, you walk to the door and open it, not thinking to find out who it is first.

Your breath catches when you open the door to reveal Bucky waiting in the hallway. His hands are in his jean pockets, a small smile on his face. He looks good, like always. Too damn good. And you know you should turn him away, tell him you were just about to go to sleep, but that thought doesn’t make it past your mouth.

“Hey, Bucky,” you say to him instead. “What’s up?

“Nothing much,” he replies, shrugging. “Just bored, I guess. I came to see if you were getting into anything tonight.” He cocks a brow as he eyes your bath robe. “Are you turning in already?”

You pull the neck of your robe tighter across your chest, suddenly aware that you’re naked underneath. And playboy Bucky Barnes is at your door, with those baby blue eyes and cocky smirk, forcing you to act like he didn’t just make you accidentally _come_ earlier that day.

You start to silently question the direction your life is going in.

“I’m just hanging out,” you say. “Relaxing.”

“You can relax when you’re dead,” he says, brushing past you as he invites himself into your room. “Let’s do something fun. Let me show you around the town.”

You close the door and follow him into the room. You veer into the small, open kitchen and lean your back against the counter, arms folded across your chest. Bucky is mirroring your stance from his place further inside the living space, arms folded across his large pecs as he waits for your answer.

“That sounds nice, but can I take a raincheck?” you ask. “I’m kind of tired tonight.”

You really shouldn’t go _anywhere_ with this man. No telling how it would end. Your heart already beats double time when he’s in your general vicinity, triple when he’s actually talking to you. And after today you can’t even imagine how difficult it would be to keep your professional integrity intact.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, scrubbing his palm along his jaw, scratching at the light dusting of evening stubble. “Today was pretty intense, huh?”

“It was my first sex scene in a faux porn film,” you tell him. “It was pretty intense.”

Bucky laughs and starts to slowly saunter toward you. “Yeah, well,” he says, “what I mean is that I’ve done a fair share of sex scenes in my day, but I’ve never had anyone actually come during them.”

You stand up a little straighter, drawing your arms tighter against yourself. “Wha-what do you mean?” you ask, and goddamnit, you’re an actress, you should be more convincing than that.

“Sweetheart, I was between your legs when they were trembling,” he says, voice pitched deep. He closes in on you, walking the half-dozen steps to where you’re standing, and places his hands on the counter on either side of your body. He’s not touching you, but you can feel the warmth of his body in the intimate space.

“I felt your nails digging into my skin,” he continues, his cheek to yours as he whispers into your ear. “I heard that hitch in your breathing… those sweet little sounds as you tried to hold it back. You can’t fake that.”

Bucky pulls back and stares down at you, arms still around your body with his hands on the counter behind you. He cocks his head, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the corner of his mouth turned up in his trademark smirk.

You feel like prey beneath his gaze. Like he’s the cat and you’re the canary.

“I – I didn’t mean to,” you say, your voice barely even a whisper, because there’s no use in denying it now.

“That’s ok,” he says, his hands leaving the counter to find your hips. “That makes it even better.”

“Bucky…” sigh and you don’t even know what for.

Your palms are on his chest, but whether to push him away or draw him near, you don’t know. But you can feel his heart racing in his chest, and you’re relieved that this is affecting him even so much as a fraction as it is you.

Bucky cups your jaw in his hands, thumbs softly caressing your cheeks. He has a real smile on his face instead of just a smirk, and that’s how you know you’re in trouble.

“We’re gonna have some fun tonight,” he says, softly. “And there won’t be any need to pretend this time.”


End file.
